late dinnerPosted: 12/04/2011
this entry is not being made directly in the blog. i need to cook something to eat, but don’t really feel like it. most of the times when i am alone i just whip up some random pasta and soup with whatever is available. today, i decided i’ll make rasam and chow chow. the decision is still the same.
so i’ve still been thinking about throwing open the writing process. removing editing, grammar, and backspace out of it.
i’ve always dreamt of having a typewriter for myself, it’s just that it costs a bit, and maybe some day i will get myself one. it is the sound and feel of the keys, something a desktop or a laptop just cannot give. these keys on my laptop are almost feather touch, and it doesn’t feel like i’m putting much energy into this.
of course, pen and paper rule the day. notebooks are actually a great favourite of mine. i’ve had a few on and off. just has a feel of: carry-me-anywhere-save-anything-you-want-only-maybe-rain-or-coffee-could-erase-my-memory-but-don’t-worry-since-i-am-a-notebook-even-disasters-actually-have-a-way-of-making-me-important.
memories after all only matter in our individual head. it’s the feeling of a memory that we actually hold on to.
the typewriter. this master instrument doesn’t allow to erase. the blotched letters are blotched, they are not exactly aligned, and the type emboss into the paper. there’s one font. no spell-check. just it’s sweet noise that keeps me awake. i love it so much.
in my tenth grade summer holidays, i joined a typewriting course. i used to type before that, in my father’s typewriter, which never had ink. then i eyed my uncle’s electronic typewriter for a long time. by the time i knew it, computers had taken over, the sounds had been submerged. i went and joined this course, because my father thought whether it was typewriters or computers knowing the qwerty was a good skill. it was good to have the instinct on your fingertips to just guide you to the letters without having to gaze at the keyboard all the time. so the paper, the screen in this case, is all i see. i type. it appears.
however, after long hours of typing, i have to crack my knuckles a few times before my hands feel okay. nevertheless, the strain and pain of a typewriter interest me.
the fact is while i have whiled away over three to four hours watching sitcoms and slowly sipping on vodka, i have also been kind of exploring design in my head. ever since i took up the responsibility to get the visual ambience and layout done for the justice rocks concert, many questions and many related ideas have popped into my head.
when it comes to bringing together print, ideas, statistics, science, art, performance (music/theatre/basic), it hasn’t perplexed me, but i might say it has excited me. (a bit too much.. he he). a corner of my head would like to add that much of this is probably under the influence of alcohol and you could go ahead erase everything said. but, this is what you and i get whether it’s the odd day that alcohol beckons me to two drinks or if it’s just me sitting around minding my own business. after all the exercise i have chosen for myself is to throw myself open.
i still have to cook, but somehow just don’t want to. i am waiting for that feeling to change. writing as great as it is, sometimes takes over everything else – the things i have to do. writing at large is the cause of my procrastination. now, i’d probably give anything to be living in a house next to the beach with my typewriter next to the window, growing all the food, and making just enough money just by throwing words at people to live okay. in other words, minus the house next to the beach, growing all the food, and the TYPEWRITER, that is what i do now.
sometimes this freewriting takes you somewhere. sometimes, you are left with just this.